


I'll Tell You No Lies

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 15,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted Cassarric ficlets crossposted from tumblr.</p><p>Chapters 37/38 added Feb 13th</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: Acceptance.

Cassandra was always forthright, to the point of bluntness. Some might have viewed it negatively, but she prided herself on the fact. She was especially forthright with herself. Nothing was sugarcoated, she knew her faults, and if she could not change them, she had learned to accept them.

In fact, she had learned to accept a great many things about herself.

Except one.

It was a recent development, of that she was certain, though she could not pinpoint when she had first realized it. However, it was there.

At first it seemed prudent to try to fight it, because it simply would not do. It was unacceptable, outlandish, not to mention utterly ridiculous. She would not give into it. She would _not_.

Only she could not fight it, she realized with a great sense of defeat, because it had already taken hold. Worming its way deep inside, until it had become so much a part of her to be rid of it would be like cutting off a limb.

That terrifying realization made it all the more ridiculous.

So she sipped her ale moodily, watching those of the Inner Circle listen to one of Varric’s tale, his hands moving rapidly to help paint the picture as the story grew more and more preposterous.

As she drained her cup, she realized that she would just have to finally accept this new part of herself: she was in love with the dwarf.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: celebrity/fan. 
> 
> This was actually the start of what would eventually become Royal Pains (which is getting a sequel).

“Ms. Pentaghast.” The speaker’s voice was rich and smooth, much like the amber liquid in her glass sitting on the table. She started to rise out of her chair, but he waved her off, shooting her a quick grin that caused a certain glint in his eyes. Playful, she decided. She wasn’t sure what to make of that exactly. 

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, you come highly recommended.” She raised her hand, flagging down the waiter. Then turned toward her companion.

“A Scotch, neat,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. When the waiter disappeared again, he met her gaze across the table. “Well, It’s not every day you get called up to meet with the Cassandra Pentaghast.”

She scoffed and took a sip of her drink, delaying any comments. That didn’t seem to detour her new acquaintance though. 

“You know, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a fan." 

"You hardly seem the type to follow fencing,” she remarked. He didn’t. Most men she knew were meticulous and obviously accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Judging by his demeanor, the casual air he exuded, and the patches on the elbows of his jacket.. he was not. 

“Well, I do,” he said as the waiter returned with his drink. He picked up the glass and took a healthy sip. “That’s the good stuff,” he commented, replacing the glass on the table. He looked up at her, all playfulness gone. “Besides, we can’t pretend that’s all you’re known for… your highness." 

She drew in a sharp breath through her nose. "If you can’t keep yourself in line, then I’m afraid I will have to terminate our contract before it’s even signed.”

“No, no,” he waved a hand. “I’ll behave. Scouts honor.” He held up three fingers, looking grim. 

Cassandra scoffed again, eyes rolling to the ceiling. 

“Now, let’s talk details. Why hire a ghostwriter for this memoir?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

It was nice to be part of civilization again, especially when all they’d seen for three weeks was sand, sand, and more sand. Though Varric had to admit he much preferred the Western Approach to that twice blighted frozen wasteland known as the Emprise du Lion. 

Unfortunately that meant he had sand in places he’d rather he didn’t. Even a bath hadn’t helped much… but the ale he was currently sipping made up for that fact a little bit. 

The inn was a popular stop for travelers, on the outskirts of Val Royeaux, though it was oddly quiet that night. Only the Inquisition party and two other patrons. Varric, however, couldn’t find it in himself to care over much. So he propped his feet on a neighboring chair, and watched as the Inquisitor tried to beat Tiny at chess. 

The chair on the other side of him creaked as Cassandra sank into it, a tired sigh escaping past her lips. She rolled her neck as she sank back a bit, then took a sip of her own ale. 

“Fine stuff. Wouldn’t you agree, Seeker?” He reached out his tankard, and she bumped hers against it after a moment. 

“Indeed. It’s refreshing after so much sun and… sun.” She wrinkled her nose, which had turned a rather becoming shade of pink under said sun.

He was ready with a reply when the serving maid appeared, a refill in hand. She offered Varric a becoming smile.

“Can I top you off?”

“Much appreciated,” he replied, holding out his tankard. She leaned forward a bit as she filled his cup, completely ignoring Cassandra in the process of showing her ample bosom. Varric was keenly aware of Cassandra’s incredulous snort. 

The serving maid was very attentive, had been since the moment he entered the establishment, in fact, and her advances were not lost on him, though they were far from reciprocated. Still, he remained polite. 

They chatted for a short time, Cassandra silent by his side. Eventually though, the woman left to attend her other duties. And Varric leaned back happily in his chair. 

“Finally, I thought she’d never leave.” 

“What was that?” He glanced toward Cassandra, an eyebrow raised. She looked rather stricken that she had spoken aloud, eyes wide.

“I mean…” she opened and shut her mouth, floundering for words. So unlike her normally sure self. 

“Wait just a moment,” Varric drawled. He dropped his feet to the ground, elbows resting on his knees as he looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you jealous, Seeker?”

“Don’t be absurd, Varric.” She laughed, all nerves as her cheeks started to turn a shade of pink to match her sunburned nose. “Why would I be jealous? If you wish to flirt with a pretty young maid, who am I to judge.”

“Huh,” he breathed, sitting back in his chair. 

“Don’t you ‘huh’ me, Varric. Spit it out.” 

“You _are_ jealous. You didn’t ever strike me as the type. Though, I’d be lying if I said I wan’t flattered.”

“Varric, please.” 

“No, no. You want me all to yourself. I get it, Seeker. My charms _are_ rather irresistible.” 

“That is not what I meant… I only… _ugh_.” She was almost pouting by now, arms crossed as she stared into her cup. He couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t stormed off yet, and he took that as a good sign.

Varric relaxed back in his seat, and lifted his legs again. Instead of resting them on the neighboring chair, he put them on top of Cassandra’s thigh. 

“Tell ya what, Seeker,” he said with a slow grin. “You have my full attention for the rest of the night.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm.

It wasn’t that she _liked_ Varric. Because she didn’t. She appreciated his writing, the way he wove stories and his turn of phrase. It was a skill she sorely lacked, and something she admired greatly. 

She also appreciated his presence on the battlefield. He was a fine fighter, capable, and a good person to have at your back. 

So it really wasn’t that she liked Varric… yet, there was something about the infuriating liar that had her hoping for his company more and more. Something that made her cheeks flare when he glanced at her a certain way, paid her one of those teasing compliments. 

Something in the way he called her, _Seeker_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What’s that in your bag…? Is that–? Tell me it’s not!” for Varric and Cole, which I then turned into sad Cassarric.

He’d gotten used to it, Cole just popping up. It happened often enough that it no longer surprised him. Except they were late, by a day, and Varric hadn’t known when to except the whole group back. 

Varric startled in his chair by the fire, where he was sat working on a new chapter. He glanced up at Cole.

“You gotta give me some warning, kid. I’m not getting any younger here.” He stopped when he saw Cole’s face.. drawn and pinched and suddenly Varric’s stomach was located somewhere near his feet. 

“Kid, what’s wrong?” he demanded. Cole didn’t answer though, just shifted in place and glanced away, and that had Varric surging to his feet. 

“I couldn’t help,” he mumbled, voice so quiet Varric had to strain to hear him. “I couldn’t help, not this time.”

“What’s that in your bag?” Varric asked, noticing Cole’s pack hanging lose from his fingers. He could see a glint of silver peeking out from the flap. “Is that-?”

He stopped short just as the Inquisitor came bolting up the steps, their face gaunt, pale. Varric can see the wear and tear, their left arm bandaged, a fresh gash running across their cheek. The Inquisitor skidded to a stop as they enter hall, eyes, wild and haunted, darting from Varric to Cole and back again. 

“Varric–”

He waved the Inquisitor off, moving forward to take Cole’s pack. Nestled inside was Cassandra’s breastplate, the Seeker crest glinting up at him in the torchlight. He swallowed thickly. 

“I tried to help,” Cole mumbled. “I wanted to help more.” 

Varric’s legs buckled, and he had to lean against the table for support. The Inquisitor was by his side in an instant, hand cupping his elbow. He looked up to their pained gaze.

“Not her,” Varric said, voice strained. “It can’t be her.”

“I’m sorry, Varric. We.. there was an ambush. She–”

The Inquisitor’s words were drowned out by a whirring in Varric’s ears, his heart hammering inside his chest. Suddenly he found it difficult to breathe. 

With the Inquisitor’s help, Varric managed to retake his chair. Cole was closer now, in fact Varric was certain most of the Inner Circle was there now. Not that he really cared. 

Cole crouched at Varric’s side, pain etched across his face. Words tumbled from his mouth and Varric tried to ignore them, to shut them out. But it was impossible, he found.

“She wanted you, she wanted you to help. I tried to, but I wasn’t you. I couldn’t help.” 

Someone has the sense to pull Cole away. But the words lingered, and Varric was certain he would never forget them. Not in this lifetime away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "When's the last time you slept?"

Varric stared at his feet, not really seeing anything. He was huddled by the campfire, his blanket draped over his shoulders. Every so often he was aware of a sentry passing by, giving him a long look before moving on. 

Not that he could blame them, he’d occupied the same spot in much the same manner for the last few days. 

In the darkness, with most people asleep in their tents, huddled in blankets and furs for warmth, he was an oddity. Those on guard were only there because they had to be. He was there voluntarily. He could practically hear their thoughts, bemoaning the ice and the cold. Wanting nothing more than to sleep for a few blissful hours while all was quiet, the world muffled by the layer of snow covering everything in the Emprise du Lion.

That was the thing though, it wasn’t quiet. Not for him. 

Not with that fucking red lyrium everywhere. Not when it sang to him. Fucking sang. He’d never once in his life heard the call of the stone, never once wondered what it was like to be a “true’ dwarf, underground in the mute torchlight, ensconced in caves like a rabbit hiding in their hole. 

But in the Emprise du Lion, where the red lyirum glowed and sang and called, he found himself wondering… and it wasn’t so bad. 

Except then there would be a flash of a memory, Bartrand’s face through the closing doors of the Thaig. The sting of betrayal, the sense of doom as his world went dark. Another flash, another memory of the Gallows while Meredith rampaged and Kirkwall burned, and knowing it was his fault. It was _all_ his fault. 

Varric didn’t dream, but he didn’t have to when memories haunted him. 

Boots crunched the snow behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Probably the sentry back again, trying to get warm by the fire for a moment. 

He was surprised when a steaming cup of tea was placed inches in front of his face. 

Varric shook his hand free of his blanket shroud, and took the cup. Looking up to find Cassandra of all people looking down at him, her face neutral. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

She gave him a curt nod before taking a seat next to him. Her own cup of tea clutched between both hands. She gazed into the fire as silence descended upon them. 

He sipped the tea, something strong and obviously Nevarran. It was nice, spicy, causing a pleasant warmth to spread through his midsection with each sip.

“When was the last time you slept?” she asked eventually, voice quiet. 

“I..” he trailed off, mouth twisting while he thought. “I don’t know.” 

“You should try. I’m sure Dorian could make some concoction to help you–”

“I doubt it’ll help.” 

She sighed, and shifted where she sat. Obviously she wanted to say more, chastise him probably, but she refrained. The kindness was not lost on him, especially since he was certain he didn’t deserve it. 

“You could talk to the Inquisitor. Go back to Skyhold.”

“I’m not gonna do that, Cassandra. This is. I need to do this.” It _was_ the least he could do. Stick it out, destroy the lyrium veins. Retake that keep. He would do it. He _had_ to. 

He was aware of her turning to look at him, could feel her eyes darting across his face as she studied him closely. Finally she shook her head and turned to face the fire again, scoffing under her breath.

“Not if it is hurting you this way, you fool of a dwarf.” 

“I don’t–” he stopped, ran his tongue over his teeth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” 

Varric finally turned to look at her, met her gaze. She was firm, resolute. Every inch a warrior, and she was not about to back down. That much he was sure of. 

Shoulders sagging a bit, he drained the final drags of his tea and nodded. “Yeah, all right.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

It started with a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. Which, in all honesty, he was part of the Inquisitor’s group at a rural tavern in Orlais, it was highly possible the locals were staring. 

But as his gaze covertly took in the taproom, he realized no one was staring. At least not at him, the Inquisitor though? Well, there was plenty of attention directed that way. 

It wasn’t until he met Cassandra’s gaze across the room, that he realized she was the one who had been staring. Her gaze as it met his was focused with such a single-minded intensity, that he felt like he might be an opponent on the battlefield. 

She dropped her gaze, and he could feel her dark eyes trailing over him. All right, now he felt like prey. 

Swallowing thickly, he shifted in his chair. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. They were caught in each other’s gaze for a long while, finally she tore her eyes away. A wicked smile curving her lips as she nodded toward the stairs. He returned her smile with one of his and nodded. Draining his tankard, he rose from his chair and headed up the steps with a careful gait. 

He had barely made to his door before he could feel her behind him, a welcome presence. 

“Why, Seeker,” he drawled, stepping inside the room. “So untoward downstairs, I feel as if I have been laid bare under your gaze.”

Varric clasped his hands over his chest protectively, lowering his eyes demurely. 

She laughed at that, light and carefree and he was certain he would never, ever grow tired of that sound. Shutting the door with a faint _click_ , she turned to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Not quite yet,” she whispered against his ear, “now strip, dwarf.” 

“If the lady insists,” he replied, turning his head to claim her lips in a fierce kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.

The celebration for the Inquisition’s victory against Corypheus was a magnificent one. Surely one for the ages. 

Varric had been quietly observing for most of the night, taking notes, trying to remember all he could for the stories. Because there would be many stories. 

Of course all that was forgotten once Cassandra had taken a seat next to him, striking up a conversation. As the night wore on their usual banter changed from friendly to flirtatious to something even more.

Something he couldn’t name, but made him feel like a lucky bastard all the same. 

“Varric?” she asked, voice low and eyes dark. They were tucked away in a corner, Varric with his back against the wall, a tankard of ale on the table before him. Next to him on the bench, Cassandra had draped her legs over his lap, and had been inching closer all night until she was practically in his lap.

He hummed in response to her question, his hand moving to the small of her back, almost of its own accord.

She looked at him closely, eyes darting across his face. Then she glanced around the hall, at the people gathered, the laughter and pure joy of the night and something seemed to change in her demeanor.

Cassandra looked back at him, hand rising to cup his cheek gently. Her gaze darted toward his lips, and he licked them without really thinking. 

“To hell with it,” she mumbled, a small smile curving her lips, before leaning forward and kissing him. 

He responded almost immediately, his arms linking around her waist and pulling her fully onto his lap. As her hands framed his face, her lips insistent against his, he thought he was officially the luckiest bastard in all of Thedas.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was: Varric + "Inspired"

It had taken weeks to finish. It had taken many late nights, candles burned down to the quick, and many, _many_ sheaves of paper. It had taken a fair amount of work too, more concentration and thought than he would have liked to admit. 

The finished product had been… well, it had been just as shitty as the previous installments. 

Not that she had seemed to mind.

But it had been a change in their relationship. The distrust and animosity of before, giving away to a tentative friendship. 

Though it wasn’t until later… much, much later when she was curled against his side, face buried in the crook of his neck that she asked him about it.

“Why did you write it, if you have the series so much?” Her voice was soft, breath tickling his pulse point. 

He smiled, tightened his arm around her waist. “What can I say, Seeker? You inspire me.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Disgusted [noise] + Cassandra

She hated the Fallow Mire. Loathed it, in fact. Especially now. 

All it had taken was one misstep, her boot sinking into the squelching muddy marsh up to her ankle. Trying to free it had resulted in Cassandra losing her balance and down she went, landing on her hands and knees in the mud and muck and foul water. First she tried to yank her foot free, but that only seemed to make things worse, her boot sinking further. 

“Ugh,” she muttered.

Giving up on all pretense of trying to keep dry, she rolled herself and plopped down, reaching forward to dig out her foot. Once she was done, she was soaked through and covered in mud. 

“Need a hand, Seeker?” Varric looked down at her, brows lifted and hand outstretched. 

She gave him credit for not laughing outright, though his lips were twitching. 

“That would be… kind.” She sniffed haughtily, shook off the muck on her hand and held it out to him. 

Even through his gloves, his fingers were delightfully warm as they wrapped around hers. Their eyes met, and something overtook her. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was… playfulness, perhaps? Something else? She didn’t dwell though, as she gave his hand a solid yank. 

Caught by surprise he had no time to compensate, and went tumbling into the mud next to her. He came up sputtering, flinging back his hair and glaring at her, though it lacked any real ire. 

Cassandra tilted back her head and laughed. 

“Feeling better,” he asked.

“Perhaps a little.”

“Good.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Passionate + Cassandra

_“Romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. It is_ passion. _It is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. What is_ not _to like about that?”_

Once, Cassandra had spoken those words to the Inquisitor, trying to prove that a romantic heart was not something to be mocked.

Now, unfortunately, she thought quite differently. Romantic ideals were fine when you were young, she remembered that with Galyan. You could let yourself be carried away because you could not fathom the consequences. And it was fine when you were reading about it in books, daydreaming and not in the middle of it.

However, it was entirely different when you were left to stew in your feelings.

She did not want to feel this way. She did not want to get lost in this ideal, imagining what could be. Not when there was no chance of it ever happening, she was old enough to know better. 

And yet… and yet, she thought about him far too much. Pictured what she might say if she could only find the courage to speak the words; pictured what he might say in return, romantic.. wonderful… and perfect.

Always perfect.

She loved him, and she felt more the fool for it because it was ridiculous. Improbable, impossible.. utterly far-fetched. 

Still, she couldn’t stop her gaze from always find him, covertly watching him while he wove stories in the tavern, marveling at his ease.. at his skill with words. The stories coming to life with each breath he took. 

She loved him and it frightened her, but it thrilled her too. It was _horrible_.

“Seeker,” he said slowly by way of greeting. Her head snapped up, when had he meandered over?

“Varric,” she said just as slowly, watching as he took a seat next to her. She glanced around the room, noting that people were still gathered in the center of the room, still talking and laughing. Even in Varric’s absence. 

“Have you abandoned your adoring public?” She quirked a brow at him.

“I didn’t want my number one fan to feel left out. You could join us, you know?”

She snorted. “I hardly doubt I am your number one fan. And I did not join because I am content sitting here.”

“I don’t know, Cassandra, I can’t think of many other fans passionate enough about my work to stab a book.” He grinned at her before taking a pull of his ale. 

The use of her name, not her endless supply of nicknames, was not lost on her. But she did not wish to dwell on it. Since it likely meant nothing, just a courtesy between friends.

Instead she rolled her eyes. “Do not make me stab something else.” 

Varric’s eyes lit up and he tilted his head at her. “Why, Cassandra, is that an invitation?” He waggled his eyebrows for effect.

She was uncertain what game he was playing at, he had never been so bold before. So flirtatious. She would be lying if she said she did not enjoy it, though she was quick to stamp out the hope that had blossomed in her chest. 

Foolish, treacherous heart.

Still, she felt bold. Bolder than she had any right to. “And if it were? What would you do about it?” She arched a brow, challenging. 

He stilled and looked at her. Really looked. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness she had seen when he was pondering a story, where to take it next. He wasn’t going to give her an honest reply, was he? 

“Well, first I would make sure the proposition didn’t actually involve running me through with a sword.” He paused, and she shook her head in amusement. Not a serious answer. Good.. and yet.

She smiled, trying for a light air. “I cannot kill you, Varric. I still need the rest of Swords and Shields.”

He laughed, but there was a strange look in his eyes as they settled on her. It was unnerving…and exciting. And she still felt bold.

“What would you do second?”

Varric tilted his head, brows lifted in question.

“You said first you would make sure I didn’t intend to run you through. What would you do second?”

“Ah, um,” he coughed and shifted in his seat. His uncertainty was clear, and it was strange to see him anything but self-assured. He always knew what to say, but at that moment he seemed at a loss for words. “I guess I would figure out if you were serious.”

She stared at him hard. She hadn’t heard him correctly. He had not…

“Varric!” The Inquisitor called from across the room, voice carrying over the din. “How does that limerick go? You need to tell Blackwall!”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Varric rose from his seat. Resolutely refusing to meet her gaze. Before he left, Cassandra reached out and grabbed his wrist. He turned slowly and looked at her expectantly. 

“If I was serious?” 

His breath whooshed out, and his gaze lightened, gaining back some of its usual mischief. “Then I think we would need to have a long talk.” He paused, the group yelling his name again. “Meet me later so we can have that talk?”

“Yes.”

Varric smiled then, just a small upward curve of his lips, but it set her heart racing all the same. “It’s a date then.” 

He left then, being drawn back into the fold of the group, all booming voice and quick jokes. Cassandra didn’t mind though, it gave her time to collect her thoughts, calm her nerves. 

As she watched him, laughing with the group, she thought perhaps she had been right the first time. Perhaps getting carried away would not be so bad.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing I've written (or completed) in ages. Based off this prompt: https://promptuarium.files.wordpress.com/2016/01/itoldyouso.png?w=656

“Well, I guess we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your 'I told you so,'” the remark was biting, just like the wind whipping through the ravine they were currently stuck in. Nights in The Hissing Wastes were as cold as the days were hot, and the rocky sides of the valley were smooth, almost clay like, offering little in way of protection.

Cassandra shivered, drew her arms about her, and looked at the planks and splinters of wood littering the sandy ground. They were dry, and old, bleached out from long days in the sun until they were the color of bone. 

She had said the scaffolding and bridge would not hold their weight, was amazed it was still standing, in fact. Everyone had disagreed, and the ensuing argument had been silly and childish, but it was late and everyone was tired and they had needed to find a way back to camp. When Varric had handed off Bianca to Dorian and dared to step onto it to test the point, the entire structure had collapsed under him. She had tried to save him from falling, but had instead ended up crashing down with him.

The tumble downward had been terrifying to say the least. Truly it was a miracle that she and Varric had not been injured, though Cassandra supposed the soft sand had cushioned the fall. After a few dazed moments they had both looked to see if there was a way out, or up. There was not. The Inquisitor had yelled down that they would find rope and return with some soldiers. 

Finally turning her attention toward Varric, Cassandra watched as he kicked at a pile of splinters. If either of them had happened to have flint they could build a fire, and waited for the Inquisitor to find their way down. But neither of them did, it was all back at camp. 

“I will not say 'I told you so', Varric.” 

He looked up at her and blinked. “Why? I would.” 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Well, I would prefer not to be trapped down here. So I shall not gloat.” 

“No one asked you to save me.” Varric pulled a face, kicked at another pile of splinters. 

“As if it were an option _not_ to.” She rolled her eyes, thought about him being trapped down here alone. At least there was open sky above them, that saved him a lot of grief, she supposed. Better than being trapped underground. Still the cliffsides seemed to close in, at least a bit. 

He could have been hurt. Alone and injured… it was not a pleasing thought, and her heart constricted. 

Her words seemed to jar Varric a bit, and he stopped. Stood rigidly, slowly craning his neck to look at her. “What's that supposed to mean, Seeker?” 

“It-it simply means that we are companions We look out for each other. I would have done the same for any other.” She wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself, suddenly defensive. “Would you not have done so for me, Varric?”

The fact he might say no itched at the back of her mind, uncomfortable and entirely plausible. Suddenly she felt colder than if they were in the Emprise. She hated it. Especially since Varric had not spoken yet, had barely moved. 

Finally he swallowed, and looked away. “Of course I would have.” 

She let out her breath, tried to release her anxiety with it. This was ridiculous. 

“I am glad of that, Varric.” 

His gaze snapped up to meet hers, brows drawn together tightly. “That so?” 

“I only mean… it is good to trust those you fight along side. To know they will have your back. That is a–a nice bond to have.” Now she felt empty, hallowed out. She was ridiculous. 

Varric grunted in response, shoulders sagging a bit. He reached out, laying his palm against the rock-face. “Too bad this is so soft, we could try to get a spark for a fire otherwise. As is I think it'd just crumble.”

“Are you all right?” Cassandra took a step forward, uncertain about the change in him. The softness of his voice. Was he disappointed? 

“It's fine, Seeker.” He turned back to her with a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

Cassandra ducked forward, leaned to one side until she could look Varric straight in the eye. “No, something is wrong. You can tell me Varric. We are...we have become friends, have we not? I do care, even if you think I do not.” 

“I know you care.” 

“Then what is wrong?” 

He stared at her for a moment, shifted his weight and suddenly he was close. Too close. It was dark, down in their little valley, but even so she could still perfectly imagine the tinge of pink to his cheeks from the sun. The smattering of freckles, and the fine lines around his eyes. 

Even in the dim light, she was certain she did not imagine the look in his eyes. Though she had no idea what it could mean. 

Before she could think better of it, Cassandra did the most absurd thing she had ever done in all her life. And that included everything that lead to her earning the title of Hero of Orlais. 

She kissed Varric. 

The moment her lips touched his, she realized exactly what she had done and pulled away. Her face felt like it was on fire, and all she wanted to do was throw up. What had she done? 

Varric blinked a couple times in confusion, wet his lips and pressed them together. Then he lifted his gaze toward hers. 

“Why'd you do that?”

“I… I wanted to. Obviously.” 

“Huh.” 

“I am sorry if… I should not have.” She sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I am sorry.” 

Varric did not reply to that, instead he grabbed the collar of her breastplate and yanked her down for another kiss. He slanted his mouth against hers, the kiss a far cry from the chaste one she had laid against his lips. 

When they finally parted, Cassandra was breathless and certain her face was close in color to Varric's preferred tunic. 

“W-why did you do that?” she heard herself ask, shocked she could even find her voice. That it sounded normal. 

The grin she received was wide, and lit up Varric's eyes. “I wanted to.” 

“Oh.” 

“Besides,” he said and stepped a little closer. He was warm. Solid and sure and familiar. “We need warm up somehow, don't we?” 

Cassandra blinked, and then she found herself giggling like a young maid. She stopped only when he kissed her again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some fills on tumblr. Prompt was, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“Varric, please!” Cassandra cried, and scrunched her nose in a way that was rather cute. 

“Please what?”

“This scene is ridiculous. This line is ridiculous.” She picked up the manuscript and pointed at it emphatically. “She is a trained soldier, she would have them at sword point for intruding into her private room. Not idly questioning them as if she were asking about the weather.” 

“Not to be funny, but I think you’re missing the, uh, point there, Seeker.” 

“Which is what?”

“This is a romance serial, in case you’ve forgotten. I need to get to the _romance._ ” He waggled his eyebrows. 

She snorted at that. “Well, I think it is ridiculous.” 

Varric leaned back in his chair, and grinned at her. “So you’re saying if I showed up in your bed wearing nothing but a smile, you’d skewer me first and ask questions second?” 

Cassandra flushed, sputtered as she tried to find the right words. “That is… that is different. She does not know him the way I know you.”

“Well, that’s the idea. She’s about to know him the same way you _know_ me.” 

“Ugh.” Cassandra rose out of her chair and swatted him on the shoulder with the clutch of papers. “You are awful.” 

“You love it.” He reached out, and yanked her onto his lap. 

“Perhaps I do.” She smiled slightly, traced a finger along his jaw. “I still think the scene is stupid though.”

“ _Ugh!_ ”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Have you lost your damn mind!?”

Varric stood with hands fisted on his hips, and the most incredulous look he could muster. He shifted his weight a bit, tried to channel Aveline. She always made it look so easy when she reprimanded Hawke. 

What he wouldn’t give for the ‘Don’t’ sign. 

“It is fine, Varric.” Cassandra waved a hand airily. 

“It is most certainly not fine, Seeker.”

Cassandra didn’t reply, instead she tried to stand, put some weight on her leg and collapsed back on the log with a pained whimper. 

Varric tried not to say ‘I told you so,’ though he’s quite sure the look on his face says it anyway. Judging by Cassandra’s glare. Or maybe that was just because of the pain. 

“Just wait for the Inquisitor to return with a cart. It won’t be long.” 

“I do not want to be treated like an invalid.” 

“You nearly broke your damn leg! Quick being such a stubborn mule about it!” She was lucky she hadn’t actually broken it, or worse, in his opinion. 

They’d been trying to navigate their way around the Exalted Plains – a place Varric was starting to detest – and help reestablish one of the forts, when they’d fallen prey to Undead and a fucking Arcane Horror. 

Cassandra’d had the luck of getting shoved off one of the walkways, near a particularly nasty looking set of spikes. 

Seeing her sprawled on the ground, unmoving, had been… well, it had been fucking awful. Thankfully she’d come out relatively unscathed. Expect for a banged up knee and twisted ankle with no health potions to help.

The Inquisitor and Tiny had gone back to camp to retrieve a cart and something to ease the pain. Of course that meant waiting. Which meant patience. And Cassandra was spectacularly low on that. 

She sat on the fallen log, glowering first at her leg and then him. As if it was his fault she’d been swarmed by Undead. 

“Look,” he said and knelt in front of her. “The Inquisitor will be back before you know it. You can’t will your leg better, so just rest it.” 

Cassandra crossed her arms and sniffed haughtily, staring at a point somewhere over his head. “I do not like feeling… useless.”

“You’re not useless, you’re hurt. It’s all right to let other people share the load sometimes, Seeker.”

She met his gaze, her face softening slightly. “I suppose not.”

Varric nodded and stood up, plopping down next to her on the log. “Just think of it as a small respite. If anyone deserves a break, Seeker, it’s you.” 

That earned him a small smile, and he called it a success.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “It’s not what it looks like…”

Seeker Pentaghast, Hero of Orlais… defeated by blankets. Or at least trapped by them.

They were bunched and twisted around her, and Varric. She wasn’t certain which of them had had the restless night, though considering Varric did not dream, she supposed the blame rested on her. 

Either way the blankets a giant heap inside the tent, and Cassandra could not seem to free herself. 

Nor could Varric. 

That was how he’d ended up on top of her, their arms tangled, and faces inches apart.

It was of course that particular moment that had Dorian popped his head inside, presumably to wake them since neither had emerged for breakfast.

“It is not what it looks like,” Cassandra said, eyes wide and face hot. 

“Of course it isn’t.” Dorian grinned widely. “I’ll just leave you to..it.” He sent her a saucy wink before disappearing out the tent flap. 

As one, she and Varric slowly swiveled their gazes back to each other.

“Do you think he will believe me?” she asked, acutely aware of how close Varric was. How solid he was.. how pleasant _that_ was. 

“Not a chance.” His voice was rough, rougher than usual. Like every word had to be forced out. 

She swallowed thickly. 

“We should.. perhaps…move?” 

“Huh?” He blinked at her owlishly. “Oh. OH!” He quickly scrambled off of her, moving as far away as the tent allowed. 

Cassandra found herself oddly bereft at the lack of his presence. Her face burned even hotter. 

“I guess we have to, uh, face the music?” Varric nodded toward the flap, to the Inquisition encampment beyond. Where Dorian was likely sharing all the ‘tawdry’ details. 

Not that anything untoward had happened. It was just that… Maker, did she honestly wish something _had_ happened? Clearly she was addled after a poor night of sleep. 

She shook her head to clear it, and reached out to move the flap. She caught Dorian’s uproarious laughter along with the Inquisitor’s, and she quickly slunk back inside.

Varric met her gaze with a confused look, eyebrows riding up to his hairline.

“We can never face them again,” she said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”  
>   
> A prequel of sorts to my fic, "Secret Admirer."

Varric waited while Bull mulled it over, watching him blandly. Bull blinked slowly. 

“Well, Tiny?” he finally prompted when the silence had stretched on for far too long.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” Bull grinned widely, slapped Varric on the back with enough force to make him stumble. 

When he gained his footing again, Bull was already ordering them each a pint and telling the serving maid to ‘keep them coming.’ Varric didn’t think drunken plotting was the best idea, but who was he to argue? Honestly, he could really use the drink. 

“Do you really think it’s a stupid idea?” Varric asked sometime later, after a couple rounds of drinks. 

“Your entire plan hinges on tricking a Seeker of _truth_. Of course it’s stupid,” Bull said before draining his mug. 

“I did it once before, didn’t I? With Hawke.”

“Yeah, and how’d that turn out for you?” Bull tilted his head, his one eye scrutinizing. 

Varric froze for a moment, his own mug paused half way to his mouth. “Well, shit,” he mumbled.


	17. Chapter 17

It shouldn’t bother him. It hadn’t meant anything. 

Not really. 

It was simply something that had happened in the heat of the moment. 

They had won. Corypheus was defeated, they had lived, and it was a jubilant time for everyone concerned. The Inquisitor, overcome by excitement and in the throes of celebration, had grabbed the nearest person and planted a victory kiss on their mouth. It just so happened that person had been Cassandra. 

Given the timing, the place and the circumstances, it made sense. Varric supposed. Cassandra hadn’t minded, or at least she hadn’t decked the Inquisitor in response, which must’ve counted for something. 

So why had it bothered him so much?

Despite the good cheer around him, Varric felt very cold and very alone. He barely paid attention to people patting him on the back, shaking his hand; barely registered the fact they were marching back to Skyhold. Victorious. 

He hardly noticed when someone fell in line next to him. 

“Varric?” Cassandra asked.

“What’s that, Seeker?” He blinked up at her, coming back to himself. 

“Are you injured?” 

“No.” He frowned. “Why?” 

“Only,” she paused, considered her words. “Only you do not seem yourself.” 

“I’m fine, truly. Just… thinking.”

“About?” she prompted, head tilted. 

You. Us. That kiss from the Inquisitor. A million other things he didn’t dare breath a word about. Fool that he was. 

“Nothing important.” He sped up his pace, hoping to get away. Though he wasn’t certain if he was trying to escape Cassandra or his thoughts. 

*

He didn’t see Cassandra again until later, in the wee hours of the morning, when the celebrations were dying down, people were only just starting to retire for the night. The main hall was in a horrendous state of disarray. He didn’t envy those who had clean it come morning. 

Draining his cup, Varric rose from his seat and decided it was time to turn in himself. He had many tales from the night, many ideas for the Inquisitor’s story. But those would wait until morning. It was definitely a time for rest, he thought, rolling his shoulder, earning a loud crack and pop for the effort. 

That was when Cassandra came to him. 

Her cheeks were rosy from wine, her eyes bright despite the late hour. Stopping next to him, the torch light glinting off her hair, she looked beautiful. 

He swallowed thickly. 

“Are you turning in, Varric?”

“Been a long day.. actually been a long year.” 

“It has. But I think it was worth it?” She smiled slowly, cautiously. He found himself returning it.

“Yeah. It was absolutely worth it.” 

She stooped then, pressed her lips to his. Feather light and warm. When she straightened up again, her cheeks were even pinker, along with the tips of her ears.

“Good night, Varric. I wish you a pleasant sleep.” 

“Same to you, Seeker.” 

Varric had never dreamed before, had no idea what all it entailed truly, just what he’d been told over the years. Though, as he watched Cassandra walk away, a pleasant warmth spreading through his chest, he was certain that was dreams felt like.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vehlr prompted: hand holding.

**1\. The Fallow Mire.**

The whole ordeal happened by accident, but considering the terrain perhaps it was only inevitable. Cassandra had slipped, the soggy ground giving way under her feet. Her back arched, one arm windmilling as she desperately tried to keep from falling into the stagnant water. Again.

She barely had time to register the hand reaching out before it grabbed hold of hers, steadying. She let out a breath, attempted to calm her racing her heart as she admired… no, as she _studied_ her hand in Varric’s. His hand almost made hers seem delicate as his stubby fingers circled hers.

“Thank you, Varric,” she said quietly.

“No problem.” He offered her a quick smile, the corners of his mouth tipping upward, but didn’t release her hand. Not until they had returned to camp.

**2\. Emprise du Lion.**

Snow was not his friend. Nor was ice. Nor was red lyrium. In fact nothing about the Emprise was remotely friendly, and frankly Varric wanted nothing more than to head back to Skyhold. At least there the walls protected from the biting wind and freezing cold. At least there he had a fire and a comfy chair by it.

Unfortunately they still had business there, or rather the Inquisitor did. Which meant Varric did too. At least the tower camp was large and fairly protected. Even if it was a hassle getting down to the lower levels. 

Really, he should have been more careful, walking down the gangway, but as it was he had slipped and went sprawling into the packed snow below. Or, he would have, if not for the Seeker’s hand reaching out and steadying him. Maker, but she was strong. Her smile was wry as she hauled him back onto the wooden planks. She thankfully didn’t let go of his hand until he was safely tucked next to a campfire.

**3\. The Herald’s Rest.**

It wasn’t planned, at least as far as either of them could tell, but it happened just the same. It was early in the evening, which probably made the entire thing even more out of place, yet not. They had been sat together, practically crammed against a wall as more and more people settled at the tables that been pressed together. So close she could feel his warmth, comfortable and secure, and he could feel every lean muscle when she so much as breathed.

They had barely got in their drink order, shouted out over the din of Bull’s raucous laughter, and nearly confused. As the barkeep had scurried away to fill the orders, they had shared a look, one of exasperation and amusement, and then their hands had clasped. Cassandra lacing her fingers with Varric’s as he drew himself just that final bit closer.

If anyone noticed, they certainly didn’t say anything, because Varric did not drop Cassandra’s hand for the rest of the evening.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: When words aren't enough

There were times when Cassandra wished she was a wordsmith. That she was able to speak with diplomatic eloquence, that she could always come up with the perfect turn of phrase. 

But words had never suited her. They tangled on her tongue, confusing and wrong. She was too harsh or too brash or too blunt. She was too many things, but not enough either. 

Though, she knew for a fact there were times when words were not enough. Times when there was nothing to be said, no matter who you were. In those moments actions spoke louder than anything one could think to say. And action was something Cassandra had always been comfortable with. 

It wasn’t her place, it should have been someone else in truth. Anyone else. But they would try to say something… sincere words that would fall hollow no matter how hard they tried. No matter how much they meant them, how much they wished them to be enough.

Cassandra had no words. Only understanding and sympathy. So she found Varric at a small campfire, away from the others. In the dim light his face looked sunken, hollow. She imagined he must feel just as hollow. 

She took a seat next to him, but did not say a word. He acknowledged her presence with a sigh, but he did not tell her to go. For the rest of the night they sat huddled together in the shadow of Adamant Fortress.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Please don’t make me socialize.”

Half the time it wasn’t so bad being Viscount. Well, more like twenty-five percent of the time. Unfortunately for Varric this day fell under the other seventy-five percent. 

He’d had dealings with builders and contractors, the Merchant’s guild, and next a dinner meeting with some envoy from Orlais. Currently he was sequestered in his room after he had finished dressing, head in his hands and the start of a nasty headache building behind his eyes.

There was a knock at his door, and he groaned.

“Don’t make me socialize, Bran,” Varric all but whined. “I can’t kiss anymore ass today. Just tell them I’ve died.”

He heard the door open, and Varric had a sneaking suspicion that meant he wasn’t off the hook. Though he was surprised when he wasn’t met with Bran’s exasperated sigh, but rather a throaty laugh.

“You sound rather hale for a dead man. If not a little tired.” 

Varric snapped his head up, though he regretted it slightly when his temples throbbed, and stared at Cassandra.

“You’re not Bran.”

“I am not Bran,” she agreed, shutting the door. She leaned back against the wall, yanking off mud stained boots. 

“I have dinner scheduled with an envoy,” he told her. As if that would somehow change the fact she was there. 

“I am aware. I have news from Orlais and Divine Victoria.” 

“You do?” Varric blinked owlishly as she moved further into the room. 

“Yes. Though I have only just arrived, I thought perhaps a bath would be in order before dinner. If you would be so accommodating, Viscount?” 

Finally Varric’s brain finally started processing what was happening, and the reality she was there. He grinned at her widely. “Draw you a bath? Hell, Seeker, I’ll wash your back myself.”

She laughed and bent forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I would expect nothing less.”

Feeling better than he had all day, Varric wound his arms around Cassandra’s waist and yanked her down onto his lap so that he could kiss her properly.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a song shuffle meme. Song used was [Skinny Love (cover) by Malin Kojola](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqH9Y3pEsIY)

It had crept up slowly, like first rays of the sun banishing the night. By the time she had fully realized it, let herself admit it, she too far gone to turn back. 

She promised herself she would tell him. If for no reason other than to appease her worried mind, lessen her aching heart. Only every time she thought to, there was something in the way. Something that made it impossible to express her feelings.

So she did the only thing she could do, she looked after him. In her own fumbling way; protecting him on the battlefield, making sure none would touch him. Finding him small comforts when they were far into the wilds, an extra blanket in the Emprise. Towering over him in the Western Approach to block the sun. A shield to him when she could not seem to shield herself from the truth: she loved him. 

–

Life had a funny way of fucking you over, Varric thought. Or maybe he was just one of the lucky ones? 

Either way he seemed doomed to love those he could not possibly have.

Still, he was good at keeping secrets. Though he found it nearly impossible to hide it completely. Not when he could see her face light up when he continued Swords & Shields. Or the look of utter awe when she made it into her own story. 

How could he give those things up? So he quietly worked in hopes she would light up, and he could bask in it for a moment. Knowing he was the cause of something so beautiful. Maybe one day he would admit to his feelings, but for now he could take solace in those moments. 

– 

_Perhaps_ , they both thought, sneaking glances across the campfire. _Perhaps one day._


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used [Inside of You by Hoobastank](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=639eG5Y9JTg) Mildly NSFW

Things had _changed._

For the better, granted, but they were so vastly different it was a little surreal at times. Still, Varric wouldn’t have it any different.

Well, he would change one thing. 

But now was hardly the place or the time, and frankly he shouldn’t even find Cassandra that attractive in the Maker forsaken dress uniforms the Inquisition had been stuffed into. Yet here he was. 

He could imagine peeling away the layers of red and gold. He could imagine the taut muscles underneath, the long, powerful legs and wealth of tanned skin. He could imagine those legs wrapped around him as she whimpered his name.

Varric shook himself, turned his attention to Nightingale who had been waving a hand in front of his face. Though her face was serious, her eyes were laughing. Damn her anyway. 

He tried his best to the Spymaster as she relayed a new part of the plan, Varric couldn’t help his gaze from daring toward Cassandra every so often. 

One day he would find out if reality was better than his imagination.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used [Bring Out Your Dead by Beautiful Small Machines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMVyNXhJCl8)

Heavy footfalls pounded down the steps of the keep like drums signaling war. Shouted orders, frantic pleas. 

Skyhold was chaos as the Inquisition prepared for the final battle. 

No one could possibly know what was to come, how they would fair in the end. They had already buried many, countless lives lost to the rage of war and Corypheus’ armies. 

Even so Cassandra held her head high, a proud warrior ready to face whatever fate would throw at her. 

As she strode quickly through the keep, heading to the Inquisitor’s side, she felt a hand catch her wrist. Cassandra slowed to a stop and looked down to find Varric gripping her hand tightly. 

“Seeker,” he said, voice rough and eyes refusing to meet her gaze. “Keep yourself safe, all right?” 

Unable to find the words right away, Cassandra relied on action instead. Placing a hand under his chin, she forced him to look at her fully. Then she stooped and pressed her lips against his.

“You as well, Varric,” she whispered as she pulled back. A heartbeat passed, and then they were both called away by duty.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “your dad is really excited to meet you soon, it’s driving me crazy.”

Cassandra had never been the most patient person, and never much enjoyed waiting, but sometimes you had to wait whether you liked it or not. Though nine months was excessive, in her opinion. 

Especially when her belly was swollen, her back ached, she couldn’t even see her sore feet, and Varric was driving her _absolutely mad._

He was nervous, more so with each passing day, and excited. She knew this, but it didn’t help matters. Not when he wouldn’t leave her alone for five minutes. Not when he insisted she ‘take it easy’ to the point where she could barely get herself a book from the shelf without him taking over and forcing her to sit. 

It was maddening and a bit infuriating, she was not an invalid, yet part of her found it oddly endearing as well. Which was probably the only reason she had not killed him yet. 

Relaxing back into the chair by the fire, she let him shuffle off to fetch her something to eat, and let out a sigh. 

“Your father is very excited to meet you; I am as well,” Cassandra said softly, hand on her stomach. “But he is driving me crazy!”

At that moment she felt a strong kick as if in reply, and laughed softly. “Does that mean you are on my side, or his?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “How about a kiss?”

“How ‘bout a kiss then?” To be fair the man was rather drunk, swaying slightly on his feet. Regardless it still seemed odd to Cassandra that he should try to proposition _her_ , of all the people. Between her travel worn clothes, and perpetual glare, she was hardly a welcoming presence in the tavern. 

Varric shifted next to her, and reached forward to pick up the tankard the man had plopped down on the table. 

“Why thank you,” he said, “I was needing a refill.” Varric then proceeded to take a long pull from the tankard. 

Cassandra pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She supposed that was better than punching the drunk. She supposed Varric realized this as well. 

The man bristled, leaned forward until he was eye-level with Varric. “Butt out, buddy, I was talkin’ to the lady.” 

“I know,” Varric said, nonplussed as he took another sip of ale. “It’s simply that you’re so charming, I could hardly contain myself.” He batted his eyes for effect, and Cassandra had to press her knuckles to her mouth to stop the bubble of laughter threatening to escape. 

The drunk’s face turned a bit more ruddy, eyes narrowing. He glanced between the pair of them, and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Obviously deciding it wasn’t worth… whatever was going on, he slunk back to his friends at the bar. 

Cassandra finally let out the laugh she had worked hard to suppress. “You are terrible.”

“Well, it’s not like I can blame the poor guy. I was just saving him from having his heart broken.” 

“Who is to say I would not have taken him up on the offer? You said yourself, he was rather charming.” She managed to keep a straight face, but she could not keep the amused waver from her voice. 

Varric didn’t answer, instead grumbled good-naturedly into his ale. Cassandra turned to face him, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin atop her fist. 

“Alas he is gone from me forever, so I shall never know what might have been.” She sighed dramatically, and Varric nearly snorted ale as he started laughing. “If only there were someone else who was equally as charming, and as amicable to the idea of kissing me.” 

“Well, you’re fresh out of luck there, Seeker.” Varric grinned and scooted his chair a little closer. “I don’t think I can match that level of charm, but I’m willing to try.” 

Cassandra pretended to think it over, and finally sighed a little sadly. “Yes, I suppose you will do.” 

“Now who’s terrible?” Varric said, reaching up to snake a hand behind her neck. 

“Clearly it is still you, because I am not being kissed right now.” 

“So demanding, Seeker.” His voice was playful and Cassandra was ready with another retort, but Varric took that moment to yank her down for a kiss.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt used: “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

Even after closing the rift in Crestwood, Caer Bronach kept on a bit of the dank, dreary feel to it. The Inquisition forces were busy opening it up again, airing rooms and finding what all it held inside. 

Even so, it was still better to sleep in an actual bed – however musty – than the ground. The room the Inquisitor’s team had been allotted was hardly anything special, but it had been used to house the Bandits that had been occupying the keep, so it was in relatively good order. 

When Cassandra finally found her way to bed, yanking off her boots, she was hardly surprised to find Varric was already claimed his own. He’d propped his back against the wall, and had lit several candles in order to write in his journal. Or he had been writing in his journal.

The leather bound book was currently resting on his chest, which was rising slow and steady, and his glasses were perched on his nose, forgotten before he had nodded off. 

Cassandra tried not to think the scene rather… cute. Instead she crept over to him, untangled his hands from the journal and quill. She carefully sat them on the small table by his bed, putting the stopper in the ink pot as well. 

Turning back to Varric, she tilted her head as she gauged how soundly he was sleeping. Still quite deeply, she reckoned. Reaching out slowly, she gently plucked the glasses from his nose. Cassandra had almost pulled back when Varric shifted, his cheek nuzzling her hand. 

The movement made her freeze in place, wondering if he would wake up completely. However, Varric’s eyes remained shut, though he muttered softly, obviously not fully awake. 

“.. write a story…” he mumbled, and Cassandra strained to hear. “… ‘bout seek’r. Most beautiful ‘n terrifying woman… in all Thedas.” 

With that he scooted down the bed a bit, turning away from her and the candlelight. Cassandra wasn’t entirely certain what to make of it all. Honestly, it was likely nothing more than sleep-talk. Not a thing he would mean, or would even remember by morning light. Still, her heart foolishly fluttered a bit inside her chest. 

Varric had called her beautiful. 

Not really thinking about what she was doing, Cassandra leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his forehead. 

“You are terribly endearing when you are half-asleep,” she mumbled before straightening up and blowing out the candles.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“Have you seen the..?  _ Oh _ .” Bran came to a halt just inside the room, eyes wide as he took in what was before him. “You are not Varric,” he said, blinking owlishly.

“I am most decidedly not!” Cassandra ground out as she frantically grabbed bed sheets and pillows to cover herself. 

Her voice seemed to bring Bran back to himself. He flushed a deep, vibrant red and averted his gaze; head bowed, hand shielding his eyes. 

“I am t-terribly, terribly sorry, Lady Cassandra.” At this point even his ears were bright red, and Cassandra would have been amused at the situation if she were not completely mortified.  

“Just go, Bran,” she managed to say, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

It was that moment Varric appeared, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. He stopped at the threshold, lips pressed together as he took in the scene before him. At a glance one might have said he looked upset, though the light in his eyes clearly showed his amusement. 

“Sir!” Bran yelped as he turned around. “I didn’t.. that is to say I was not. I had only.” He clamped his mouth shut, stemming the flow of words, and took a breath. “I didn’t see anything!” He finally shrieked and proceeded to slink out of the room. 

“Have a nice night, Bran!” Varric called as he kicked the door shut behind him, only then giving into his laughter. 

“It is not funny,” Cassandra muttered, hiking the blankets up a little higher out of indignation. 

“It’s a little funny.” He moved to the side of the bed, sat down the glasses and set about uncorking the bottle. After a moment he handed her one of the glasses full of red wine. 

“So,” Varric drawled as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning to one side slightly and tilting his head. “What all  _ didn’t _ Bran see?” 

Cassandra pulled the blanket up even higher this time, and took a dainty sip of wine. “You shall never know now.” 

“Because I laughed?” His eyes were dancing over the rim of his glass. Cassandra smiled despite herself. 

“Because you laughed.” 

“And what all won’t I see?” 

She took another sip of her wine before holding out the glass to him. He obediently took it from her, settling himself a little more comfortably on the bed. Cassandra then drew back the blankets, revealing what she wore beneath. Or rather what she  _ wasn’t _ wearing. 

Varric choked on his wine, sputtering and coughing. “I was not expecting that.” 

“Neither was Bran.” 

There was a moment of complete silence before they both dissolved into helpless laughter. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“I love you. I have loved you for months, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not--” The words were halted by a searing kiss. Luckily it was intense enough that neither party seemed to notice the faint click of a door behind them.

“Well,” Varric drawled as he rounded on the Seeker. “Looks like we’ll be trapped here for a while.” 

“What is happening now?” Cassandra asked, jerking her chin toward the door, brows furrowed.

“Looks like they’re kissing. I’m sure they’ll be gone soon.” He waved a hand and pushed away from the door. 

The room they were in appeared to another section of the library, likely full of older and rarer tombs. Varric had been in the middle of picking the lock when they heard footfalls and hushed voices coming from the main door to the library. He was certain he’d never picked a lock faster in his life, sure they were about to be caught by some of Celene’s guards. 

If he’d known it was just a pair of kids with a declaration of love, he would’ve stayed. At least then they could’ve made a quick exit. Although, maybe they would find something worthwhile in the meantime. 

“It is romantic, is it not?” Cassandra said behind him. 

Varric whirled around, cocked his head at her. “What is?”

“A secret rendezvous in the middle of a ball.”

“Of course you would think that’s romantic.” He leaned back against one of the tables in the room, and crossed his arms. 

“It  _ is _ romantic, Varric.” 

“So is that what you daydream about? You being whisked away from a ball by some dashing knight?” He sauntered up to her, placed a hand on her waist. 

She pretended to think for a moment. “If there were one about, I suppose. Though, to be fair knights have never held much interest for me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Well, I can’t argue with you there, Seeker.” Varric moved his other hand to his waist, while Cassandra draped her arms loosely about his neck. “So what is your type then?”

“I must admit I have always had a fondness for charming rogues.”

Varric grinned up at her. “Lucky for me then.” 

Cassandra’s brow furrowed, and she gazed down at him quizzically. “Who said you were charming?”

He pinched her hip in retaliation, and she laughed while swatting at his hand. The slight commotion seemed to draw the attention of the couple on the other side of the door, because there was a faint thunk, and a hissed whisper. 

Varric and Cassandra both held their breath, listening as the voices continued a whispered conversation before they could hear footfalls leaving the room, and the creak of the far door. 

“It appears we can make our escape now,” Cassandra whispered to him after a moment. 

“Yeah, but it’d be a shame to waste this privacy,” he whispered back before yanking her down for a kiss. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

It had become such a habit to him, that Varric hadn’t even realized what he was doing until Cassandra commented on it. He glanced down at his hands, in the middle of flexing and massaging his fingers. 

“Bad joints,” he explained. 

“I see.” 

He honestly thought that was the end of it, she didn’t comment further and so Varric went back to warming his hands by the campfire. He was quite surprised when she came and sat down next to him a short time later. 

“What’s that?” Varric nodded toward the small tin in her hand. 

“A salve. Bull gave it to me, he uses it on his leg for the pain.” 

“What do you use it for?”

She opened the tin, the scent was strong mint and something else Varric couldn’t name. “My shoulder. And my knee... and sometimes my hip.” She smiled at him a bit, “I am not as young as I used to be.”

Varric laughed. “None of us are.” 

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” She motioned toward his hands with the tin. 

The entire thing seemed absurd, but still Varric found himself nodding and offering up his hand. She took it gently and started slathering some of the salve on his skin. She dug her thumbs into his palm, her long, calloused fingers running over his knuckles. 

It was nice. 

More than nice, actually. The salve was soothing, almost numbing in a pleasant way. Even more pleasant was the fact he could study Cassandra up close. She was focused on her task, and hardly took note of him. 

His eyes traced along the scar on her cheek, noticed a faint one running along her upper lip. He counted the smattering of freckles on her face, and marveled at how long her sooty lashes were. 

Then it hit him: Cassandra was beautiful.

It was a fact he had been aware of since he first met her, terrifying as she had been. But it wasn’t something he had really  _ known _ until that moment. Varric was so caught up in that revelation, that he didn’t even notice when Cassandra returned his hands to his lap and replaced the lid on the tin. 

“Does that feel better?” She asked, voice surprisingly gentle. 

“Yeah. It does.” 

“Good. I am glad.” She stood up, turned toward the tents. Varric reached out, caught her sleeve before she left. 

“Thank you.” It was a simple statement, but he meant it. He thought Cassandra understood that, her cheeks turning a bit pink.

“Think nothing of it, Varric.” She nodded curtly and hurried toward the tent she was sharing with the Inquisitor. 

Unfortunately for Varric, he knew, despite her words, that he would be thinking about it for days to come. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: "The day I realized I was in love was dark and cold and wet and all I remember was the color of her eyes"

The journey from Kirkwall to the Winter Palace was mainly uneventful, aside from Bran’s nagging and the surprisingly endless amount of paperwork he had managed to bring with him on the trip. 

They’d stopped for a rest outside of Val Royeaux, at some nondescript inn. It was drizzling, surprisingly cold for the time of year, big fat rain clouds blotting out the sun and giving the air of twilight rather than mid-day. 

In the days following Varric would be hard pressed to remember any details about the place. The name, what the Innkeeper looked like, or anything beyond the fact that the main taproom held a fireplace, and a familiar set of boots. 

They were propped in front of the fire, a pair of equally familiar, and impossibly long legs stretched out as the owner relaxed in a comfy looking wing-backed chair. Varric shooed Bran away, and made his way toward the chair. 

Stopping next to it, he leaned around the side with an amiable grin firmly in place. 

“Why Seeker, fancy meeting you here.”

If Cassandra was startled, she didn’t show it, simply swiveling her gaze to meet his, a small smile curving the corner of her mouth. It was a far cry from their more antagonistic moments, it was borne out of their eventual friendship. One they had kept up through letters, updating each other on their lives. 

“Viscount,” she greeted teasingly, “won’t you have a seat?” She gestured to the chair opposite of hers. “I am surprised to find you here.”

“Why? I told you I was coming.” 

“No, I meant I am two days early, and yet here you are as well.” 

“Seeker, you wound me! I’m perfectly capable of showing up on time, if not early. Besides,” Varric grinned at her as he took his seat, “Bran made me.”

She laughed at him, shook her head and took a sip of the amber liquid in her glass.

“What’re you drinking?” He asked, jerking his chin toward her left hand.

“Nevarran brandy, it is good for warming you up after a long journey.” With that, she flagged down the the serving maid, asked for a glass of the same for her friend. The young woman returned after a moment, handing Varric a glass of the same amber liquid. He swirled it a bit, watching how it glowed in the fire light. 

On a whim he lifted his glass toward her. “To old friends,” he said.

She smiled, reached out to clink her glass against his. “To old friends,” she agreed. They both took a drink, and Varric found she was right, the brandy did warm you. The feeling running down his throat, spreading out from his chest. 

“It is good to see you, Varric.” Cassandra shifted in her seat, scooted her feet a bit closer to the fire. She looked relaxed in a way he had rarely seen, languidly lounging in her chair. She looked younger too, some of the seriousness melting away. 

She was comfortable, he realized. With him. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Good to see you too, Cassandra.” 

At her name, she looked up at him, an unreadable expression on her face, gaze looked with his. He studied her eyes, because they were never the same color. Every time he looked at her, they changed. 

Dark brown when she was angry, a cloud of ire swirling around her like a cloak. 

A light, tawny color when she was happy, laughing at some joke Tiny had told. 

Nearly hazel, the slightest tinge of green to them in the moments when she was speaking out of passion. Critiquing his writing, and proclaiming the beauty of romance and love.

In the moment though they were a shade he had never seen before, not that he could remember. They matched the brandy in both their glasses, a warm amber shot through with gold. 

The warmth he felt from the brandy seemed to intensify, and spread out from his chest, up his neck and down his arms. 

There were very few things Varric would remember from that evening.. Not the name of the inn, or the decor or what any of the staff looked liked. What he would remember, though, was that warm feeling and the slow, dawning realization that he was desperately in love with Cassandra Pentaghast.

And that she, miraculously, was in love with him as well.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: A flash of anger.

Cassandra was familiar with anger. It had been her trusted friend for more years than she could count. It was the fire that burned in her belly, the driving force when she thought she could not go on. 

It was also her greatest curse. 

She had spent too long nurturing it, letting the flame burn out of control with no means to put it out. It was something that simmered under the surface, waiting for the moment to rise up and burn those around her. 

She recognized it in others as well, something that flared out in the heat of battle; stoked by the need to protect or to survive. 

Anger was as familiar to her as anything in her life, and he had become just as familiar. The laugh lines around his eyes, the steady rumble of his voice, the way he flexed his hands after writing for long periods of time, all were daily fixtures in her life now; warm and welcome, like he was himself.

Which was probably why it took so long for her to recognize his own anger; why she was taken so off guard. His anger was not white hot, but icy cold. 

“I said leave it alone, Seeker,” Varric growled, a distinct edge to his voice that she had never heard before. “More importantly, leave me alone.” 

Her usual fire was gone, doused as if he had poured a bucket of water over it. So for the first time in her life, she retreated. All of her apologies left unsaid.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts were: Waiting impatiently for something. & A stolen kiss.

It was ridiculous!

Two weeks and nothing.

It made no sense, and yet there she was… still waiting. Still wondering. And stewing. Always stewing.

She had been the one to make the first move. In her stumbling, stuttering, often too blunt way, she had managed to say something. She had made the first move. So why hadn’t he made the second move!? It appeared that would have to lie with her as well.

Decision made, Cassandra made her way from her cubby above the smithy and crossed the training yard to the Herald’s Rest. There was no doubt he would be there. 

Her intuition proved right when she found him tucked away in a corner by the window. The fact he was alone gave her pause for only a moment, then she lifted her head high and threw back her shoulders.

Marching over to Varric’s table, she noted a hint of surprise on his features even as a welcoming smile spread across his face. Not even bothering to greet him, she leaned forward, grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him full on the mouth. 

“For the record, Varric,” she said when she straightened up. “When a woman tells you she has feelings for you, and you return them, it is usually prudent to kiss her at some point.” 

Varric pressed his lips together, blinked a couple times before lifting his gaze to hers. “Duly noted, Seeker,” he replied before grabbing the front of her tunic and pulling her down for another kiss.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked who would win in a fight....

Cassandra cups her chin, elbow resting on the table as she quirks an eyebrow at Varric. He merely shrugs in response. 

“It’s s valid question, Seeker. Who _would_ win in a fight?” 

She sighs softly, only slightly disgusted at how amused he is by the entire thing. There’s a moment of silence while she pretends to think about it, not wanting to seem too eager in participating in this ridiculous query. 

“While I cannot deny your ability with Bianca; I think we both know, I would only need to get close enough and it would all be over, Dwarf.”

Varric leans back in his chair, bobs his head. “That might be true, but you’d have to catch me first.” He spreads his hands, gestures toward himself. “And well, rogue.” 

“Perhaps I know a way to make you reveal yourself?” Cassandra leaned in closer to him, narrows her eyes in a challenge. 

He responses in kind, leaning forward until they are nearly nose to nose. His mouth lifts in a slight smirk. “Oh? And what might that be?” 

Her smile is downright deadly as she presses a quick kiss against the tip of nose, then leans over to whisper in his ear, “the sequel to Hard In Hightown was better than the original.” 

“Take that back!” Varric cries, indignant. 

She laughs, low and throaty and entirely pleased with herself. “I think this proves I would win.” 

“Only because you cheat,” Varric grumbles, crossing his arms in a huff.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame theladypirate on tumblr who prompted:  
> 1\. “Marry me.”  
> 8\. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”  
> 28\. “Stop pinning this on me! You started it!”  
> 70\. “Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

_Gotta love Orlesians_ , Varric thought while knocking back the drink in his hand. Because at least Orlesians always had good booze. Something he felt he was in great need of at the moment.

His gaze swept across the hall, landing on Cassandra who happened to be chatting with Lord FloppyHat of WhoGivesAFuck… just like she had been since his arrival at this Maker forsaken party.

He had journeyed to Orlais specifically to see her. And she hadn’t even greeted him. So he muttered under his breath, snagged another drink from a passing servant’s tray, and did his best to hide from Ruffles and Nightingale.

If they saw him, he knew they would ask questions. And he didn’t want to answer questions. He hadn’t intended to answer a single damn question all night, but he had wanted to ask one. A very important one. Only the person he needed to ask couldn’t even be bothered to look at him, let alone spare enough time in order to be asked.

In a thoroughly sour mood, Varric crept out to the gardens, searching for a secluded spot in order to lick his wounds and drown his sorrows. The place he decided on was tucked away from the main paths, and just dark enough to suit his mood.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out there, though his drink was half gone by the time an achingly familiar, and almost amused voice called out.

“Why are you out here moping?”

Varric looked up at Cassandra, eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you did know I was here?”

“Of course.” She looked confused, her head tilted to one side. “I kept trying to get away, but Lord Rousseau kept droning on and on about his horses and Leliana says I am to be more diplomatic so I could not just _leave_.”

Cassandra sank down next to him with a sigh. “It has been terrible.”

“Huh, could have fooled me,” Varric muttered.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I spent days locked up in a carriage to come see you, and you couldn’t even excuse yourself for five minutes to say hello?” He grumbled some more, took a swig of his drink, and tried to ignore the feel of Cassandra’s gaze locked on his face.

Silence stretched out before them before Cassandra finally spoke, her voice low as if she were uncovering a big secret. “You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“You are!” Now she was amused. “Varric Tethras, jealous because I was being bored to death about talk of horses.”

“It had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you!” Varric spat, turning to face her. “You were the one flirting with him.”

“Flirting?” Cassandra gave him an incredulous look. “I do not flirt! Least of all with random diplomats obsessed with horses!”

Varric scoffed, and shook his head. “Look, why don’t you just go back inside? Maybe find another Lord or another to bat your eyes at.”

“Oh, no Varric! I am staying right here, because you can stop pretending this is all my fault. You started it, by getting jealous and blowing something completely innocent out of proportion.” Her own anger was rising, eyes flashing in warning.

“Fine, I’ll leave!” He slid off the bench, intending to head back to the party so he could find Bran and get their carriage and head back to Kirkwall. Coming to Orlais had obviously been a mistake.

“I know the real reason why you are upset.”

He stopped, turned around slowly. “That so?”

“Yes.” Now her features softened. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question that brought you here in the first place?”

Varric slowly narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that’s why I came?”

“Perhaps a little bird told me?”

“Or perhaps it was a nosy seneschal who can’t seem to keep his damn mouth shut!?” Varric was going to strangle Bran the next time he saw him. Then he was going to make him walk back to Kirkwall. The traitor.

Cassandra’s laughter brought him out of his thoughts. She was smiling. Maker, why did she have to be so beautiful she smiled?

“Perhaps, but he meant well. Do not harm him.”

“I’ll think about it.” Varric shifted nervously, suddenly keenly aware of the ring burning a figurative hole in the pocket of his vest.

“So…?” Cassandra prompted after a moment. “Are you going to ask?”

In that moment everything else seemed utterly ridiculous; his moodiness and accusations, his jealousy and all the worrying he had done on the journey to Orlais. The night was warm, the air sweet with the heady scent of so many flowers in bloom. Overhead the stars were out, glittering brightly, and the sounds of the party were muffled by the hedges and trees around them.

Cassandra sat before him in a plum colored dress he knew Ruffles had forced her into, her braid draped over one shoulder, and her cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. She was stunning and he loved her and she loved him even though he acted like an ass most of the time.

Varric walked back to her, swiftly pulling the ring from his breast pocket as he sank to one knee before her. He held up the ring, eyes locked with hers.

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena–”

“Get on with it!”

He huffed out a quick laugh before sucking in a deep breath and asking, “Marry me?”

“I thought you would never ask.” She plucked the ring from his fingers and slipped it onto hers. “Now kiss me, Dwarf.”

“Who am I to deny my future wife?” With that he rose to his feet, cradled her face in both hands and kissed her soundly. Neither of them ever returned to the party.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Do you need me to kill someone for you?”

He was not himself. Quiet. Withdrawn. Moody. It was like he was a stranger and Cassandra did not much care for it. She found herself missing him, even though he was right in front of her face. Deciding she needed to do something about it, Cassandra grabbed her tankard and made her way to the corner he had occupied in the Herald’s Rest for the past several nights. She pulled up a chair and sat down beside Varric.

“Do you need me to kill someone for you?” she asked, aiming for a light tone. Teasing. It was not usually her way, but it had become more commonplace. At least with him.

“What’s that?” He looked up at her with bleary eyes, so different from the mischievous gaze she was used to.

“Are you well, Varric?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He waved a hand, waved her off.

“Are you certain? Because you have not seemed yourself of late, I am worried.”

At her words Varric looked at her, really looked at her, and she shifted in her seat, worrying that she might have stepped over some unseen line. What was proper and what was not between two people like themselves. Two people with such a history.

After a moment his face softened, and he smiled at her. “Thanks, Seeker.”

She frowned slightly at that, brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For being a friend.” He reached out, patted her forearm in an almost awkward fashion, as if he were unsure about the contact. Cassandra felt her flush slightly, despite herself.

“Well, of course. That is what we are, is it not? Friends.” At Varric’s nod, she lifted her tankard and toasted him. Toasted them. He returned the gesture.

“And Varric?” she said after they had each taken a sip.

“Hm?”

“The offer still stands.”

For the first time in several days his laughter rang out through the inn, and Cassandra couldn’t remember a time when she had felt prouder.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt again was: “Do you need me to kill someone for you?” (this one turned out a little saucy)

“Need me to kill someone for you?” Varric asked nonchalantly, leaning against the doorjamb of Cassandra’s room.

She sat on the edge of her bed, clad in only her breeches and undershirt. Her dress uniform had long since been flung to the floor in spite. She sighed dramatically.

“Oh, if only the problem could be solved so simply. I would happily skewer them with my sword.” Her face twisted in distaste, nose wrinkling slightly. “But Leliana insists that I ‘play nice’, whatever that means.”

Varric laughed and pushed away from the door, moving to stand just before Cassandra. “It means diplomacy, Seeker. Which, if working with the Merchant’s Guild and Cartel has taught me anything, doesn’t come in the point of a sword but rather poison in the glass.”

Cassandra laughed at that and reached out to grip Varric’s shirt, yanking him forward until he was flush against the bed, trapped between her legs. Honestly, there were far worse places to be trapped.

“If I had known this position would require so much talking, I would have refused Leliana when she first offered.” Cassandra rested her forehead against Varric’s shoulder.

“Well, if I can’t kill anyone for you, what if I just whisked you back to Kirkwall? Away from Orlais and all the politics.”

Her head shot up, eyes glowing. “Would you?”

“I would, if I weren’t terrified of Nightingale.” He laughed and Cassandra very nearly pouted.

“I do not want to be a diplomat any longer, I want to go hit things.” She glanced toward her window longingly, and Varric could remember a time when she spend nearly every morning hammering at the practice dummies in Skyhold.

She’d always been fun to watch.

“If you’re really in need of a distraction, I can think of something other than hitting things.” Varric reached up, cupping the back of Cassandra’s neck. “And I can think of more worthwhile positions than your current one.”

Cassandra’s lips met his in a relatively chaste kiss, which surprised him. Though when she pulled back, her gaze was far from innocent.

“Keep talking, Dwarf. Your suggestion has merit.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Are you challenging me?
> 
> (Have I done this before? IDK but I've thought of it a bunch)

She eyed him shrewdly, one eyebrow arched perfectly, her chin resting carefully on the tips of her long fingers. 

“Are you challenging me?” Her voice was full of amusement, her lips starting to quirk upward slightly. 

Varric laughed, settled back in his seat and took a swig of ale. “I would never dream of such a thing, Seeker. But if you were game…”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes slightly before dropping her hand from her chin and readjusting herself in her seat. She faced him more fully, her back straight and as she propped her elbow on the table top. She wiggled her fingers in invitation. 

With a shrug, Varric drained his tankard and mimicked her posture. He reached out to clasped his hand with hers. 

Her eyes were flashing brightly as she eyed him across the table. “Game on, Dwarf.” 

Her barely registered the crowd that had gathered around them, or the bets currently being placed on whether he or Cassandra would win their impromptu arm wrestling match. Frankly, he was most interested in the fact she was smiling.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt came from a list "ways you said 'I love you'": Muffled, from the other side of the door. 
> 
> Innuendo abound.

“Oh, come on, Seeker. It can’t be _that_ bad. Besides, we’re gonna be late. You know how much Ruffles hates it when we’re late.” Varric leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed and foot tapping a wild staccato on the flagstones. Never had he imagined that Cassandra Too-Many-Middle-Names Pentaghast would be holed up in her quarters like some young maid, nervously awaiting her debut. 

“Imagine the most horrible thing you can.” Her voice was slightly muffled through the door as she paced before it, her heels click-clacking with each long stride. There was a pause before she spoke again, “Are you picturing something atrocious?”

“Sure?” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him, face a mask of confusion. 

“It is worse than that.” 

“Would it help if I told you that I’ll love you regardless?” he asked sweetly. 

“That is hardly the point here, Varric.” She didn’t sound very amused or endeared, but at least she had stopped pacing. 

A particularly disgusted noise sounded through the door, before the latch clicked. “Fine, I am coming out. But if you laugh I swear to the Maker I will punch you.” 

“Promises, promises,” Varric mumbled sarcastically and pushed away from the wall, taking a place before the doorway.

With the speed of a reluctant snail, Cassandra slowly pulled open the door before stepping into view. The dress she had been so intensely bemoaning was supposedly the height of Antivan fashion. Perfect for the reception, Josephine (and Yvette and Leliana and Vivienne) had said. 

It was a deep red in color, and all smooth lines and exposed skin. Varric could see why Cassandra might not be overly fond of it, but he himself was having a hard time finding any fault with it. A very hard time indeed. 

“See!” she cried, and he realized he had been staring for a little too long. “It is terrible.”

“Not the word I was going to use, Seeker.” 

“But I feel naked.” She helplessly lifted her bared arms, as if that somehow proved her point. 

“You do realize that I have seen you naked, and I can confirm right now you are decidedly not naked.” But he was fairly certain with a few strategic moves he could change that. Interesting….

“You are not helping, Varric.” 

“Wait, I was supposed to help?” That earned him a glare and a loud sigh in response. He simply grinned. 

“Look,” he said after a brief staring contest that he graciously forfeited. “It’s too late to change into something else now. But I promise we’ll just do a quick tour of the reception, make sure people see us – which shouldn’t be a problem when you look like _that_ –”

“Varric!” She slapped his shoulder with enough force for it to echo in the hallway.

He laughed as he rubbed away the sting. “All I’m saying is that we’ll just be down there for a little bit. I promise. Then we can get back to the room, and I’ll help you get all the way naked.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are pushing your luck, dwarf.” 

He gave her a thorough once over, glancing from toned arms to long, graceful neck, to the very enticing dip that showed off her smooth back. “No, I would say today is definitely my lucky day.” 

Cassandra sighed again, a little less annoyed this time. He’d been utterly serious, and guessed she had finally realized that as her demeanor softened. 

“How long?” she asked. 

“However long you want, Seeker.” Varric smiled up at her, gently laying his hand against the small of her back and guiding her toward the stairs. “As for the party, we’ll give them ten minutes.” 

Her incredulous laughter was music to his ears.


End file.
